The Glamorgan Monmouth and Brecon Gazette and Merthyr Guardian

-Awe the last number of q some pleasant da ta lanSsbinion ot the comparative ^wfisnee of democratic princi- ,ic is extremely heavy, and extraj;dinary degreo In the following table 'lit budgets of tiie last ten ni$i|ed it* Paris by authority of r" ":t £ UST TEX YEARS, or •> 31,100,000 ,.J 6o. 37,b00,000 '1 dc 3»,730,000 -V?u,00'> do. 37,330,000 •5.703,000 do. 38,810,000 I,510.000 do. 38,930,000 II,500,00(7 do. 60,000,000 do. 44,000,000 8S3 l,l20,391,OifQ do. 44,500,000 vKlC »♦ atki%n<iwo 4 ti <•» *Virw nf 1« n < u^cai s tua-t "u r7U""Ult: VI me iaM ? Charles X. was &5G,»OQ,GOe francs, or about ,000 f. sterling, while that of the first year of Philippe waS Above ,300,0(>0,0fiu. or ',000'. Thus while the Thrje Glorious Days wished every man's property by ,1 third, it added the national burdens by i4 Such ure the j -ssin^3 of democratic ascendancy." We suspect that if we look at home we shall find that our Rotoni.vu House of Commons whilst it has diminished none of the people's burthens, has con- trived !o add from thirty to millions to the national debt. Reformers art- economical enough, we" grant, in the distribution of their own fund* f it is only when they have acquired the right of diopiog their h:nds into the public pocket that they are really foaud to b^ liberal.

Trm LANDED INTEREST IS F'- hA%cF.Clia- tea ivieux tells us, that the surface of France is divided into 4,300,000 properties namely or 1 zw acres (averaged) 90 000 — 28 i 2'.K),000 —- 160 «i00,000 — <43 a 'It("#) ()W 15 In connexion with this subject we may add that I reports the number of French "landholders mX 10,292,7'JS; so that very nearly one individtial in every three perons hoJd.s landed pruperty in Fiance i It seems impossible to conceive, that the writer should not have included householders under this dt-sci-iption. Be this as it may, he thus enumerates them paying lib, a-year in taxes, or under. I 8. 663,234 from JBa. to.2li. S. 642.3,15 above 21to 21. 4.. 523,901 21. to 4L a. ati,fm9 V. to I 1\. 121. to I 7. to 441. L S. -13,447 401. u ) m nne, íh. Gentian statistic.1 sn, ttasselt. estimated j the number of houses in France 5, J31,000 some years i » £ o. If, therefore, tnis number be deducted IV">m -Seguin's report, we arrive at the much proba- • -» bit* conclusion, that the landholders o'/ i rauce j amount to 4,802,793: and even this won] J bring- I -nearly Que person in every eight individuals Jinder that class—Londo-i Guardian. GOVERNMENT ANNUITY PLAN.—It is stated to (i the intention of Ministers to introduce a measure tor the purpose of forming, in every parish, an es-j "tab! ishmenl under the^guarantee of government, for grnnti.-g tenuities on term? especially favourable to I thA industi kms part of the cc.mumtv. The fol- I lowing outline will shew ta? mode by which it i hoped the object may he accomplished It is pro- posed "that a person, paying from me age of 5, niae-pence per week, will, from the time of his completing his POth year,.be entitled to an annuity Kt>f 20f. per ar.nuia lor life —if he pay 1&1. per week lie A i! be entitled {(^receive the annuity ZO!. from the age of So. Perseus paying G- I. 10s. at once will have considerable advantages held out to them, and the annuity of 20'. will be allowed at a period named. To guard against fra,il by persons buyfllg annuities with other's money, and then going into the i^zctie,} it willjbe prodded tRafin bankruptcy cases the cash received by the bankrupt shall he handed over to to the asaigneps. it- at any period a subscriber would withdraw}?.-hat he has thus put by, he may do so but ia that case the principal only is: to be returned h £ Will h^ve no ciaim to interest, ^The tnortey #nly to bo returned wheretlw subscriber hasrecei^'ed no benefit from his deposit, From tÜ time an an- j nuity becomes payable, the principal car-not be 1 toiichei!. The rules and regulations necessary are -now being prepared" by-nn eiaineiit barrister. Dlkham fKosRcrnoN.—Lord DtirliaTi) has commeiiced legal proceedings against the Editor oi j the Our ham for certain statements said jl tobp. libellous against his Lordship, published in a recent number of that paper.. j Ft;.NEKAI. OF THE LATE RICHD. HEBER, ESQ.— ] The remains of the lale Richard Heber, Esq ar- rived at Hodnet Viall for interment on Monday attended by his frieud the Rev. J. F. DibrJen. D.D' scene, says the Shrewsbury Chronicle, was pain- affecting. coHConrse of j^eopu- jn | Hodnet and the surrouading vicinity, with the whole of hb teliantry, attended in a calin and Src aiiaI ita^ !ii ot'ti;ei<r nlandlord, who -'never' tofc^'their farewell; 1 .y? 'v^ and e'rery heart too »» lip-. Xbo t>i4v:, when his Wather, tbP B.«hop o. parishioners ^ion„ V V ->•- I '« £ •. z

< \c re, /-r r clothiers.—F. Biow, Great /tk, haberdasher, .nanufaciu rer.—W. -J. Aden, Tiverton, j jrlton upon Mediock, | Brown, Liverpool, urn, Dorset, vietauiier. Brown, Liverpool, r ES. 1 T. Walker, Newport, ■rts,Worcester, needle 'rer.—J. Boroughs, fslinton, carpet i C. Hai-rison, trect, Covelit oad, jt- I t t i S0\- filre, ^nier- ,T-.aet c, C. ■ js-G. fman, irpooi, 4(er.—G. =?iant.—W. j* REFORM)

Him US OF C;AJ: J'Ai. IV KOm,51 ASJJ HIS COMPA XIQNS. This gallant navigator and his companions, who left England in IVJay 1829, concerning whose fate so much anxiety Ua»siuce prevailed, arrived at Hull on Friday week 011 board the Gazelle, Rotterdam steamer. Oa Aft adventurous expedition three of the crew had died, but the remainder arrived in safety. The most lively feeling of joy pervaded all ranks of the inhabitants of Hull, and the gallant Captain was immediately waited ujion by the principal inhabitants, and the council of the Philosophical Society, who warmly congratulated him upou his happy return to England. He was then escorted, amidst popular acclamations, to the Mansion- House, where the Sessions were being held, and the Mayor and Senior Aldermen left the Hall in order to receive and welcome him. His worship then ushered him into court, and announced his name from the bench 5 upou which the audience rose simultaneously, and gave the intrepid sailor three hearty cheers. The Corporation entertained him at dinner on the same day. A meeting was held in London, on Fridav. iu consequence of this joyful intelligence, when it was determined to send instructions, by way af Montreal, to Captain Back, to proceed no further in his expedi- tion in search of Captain Rass. The latest accounts received from Captain Back left him at a post belong- ing to the Hudson's Bay Company, called Chepewyans, which is in the 61st degree of latitude, and 113° west longitude, where he propssed wintering: so that very iittle difficulty is likely to be experienced in con- I veying to him the desired information. The freedom of the town of Hull has been presented to Captain Ross and the Lord Mayor of London has directed the City Remembrancer to invite him to the "ivic banquet on the 9th ot November. Ve are indebted for the following sketch of Captain ;58'9 expedition, to a secoud edition of the Hull ..Ictckct;- "Our readers are aware that Captain R. left this country in May, 1829, in the Victory, a vessel of about 80 tons. His object was to determine the ques- tion of a North West Passage, which had been said to exist, particularly by Prince Regent's inlet, In con- sequence of the Victory losing her top-mast, he was obliged to put into \Videford,in Greenland, to refit, and iiis departure from thence, in July, 1829, was the last authentic intelligence respecting him, until the present week. The first season, that of 1829, was the mildest Capt. R. had ever known, and the sea was more clear of ice than ill any of his former voyages. On the 14th of August he reached, without difficulty, the spot where the siores of the Fury were deposited in 1825, and fpund th? provisions, &c. but not the wreck, which had totally disappeared. Having supplied his wants at this depot, he proceeded to the southward, round Cape Geary, whence the West coast led him, in a S. W. direction, to the latitude of 72 N. Here he was, for the first time, seriously obstructed by ice, but after examining an inlet he forced his way to the South. ward, as near the West shore as t he shllow water would permit, occasionally lauding and taking posses- sian vf the uewly discovered territories with the usual ceremony. The rapidity of the tides and currents, the rugo-ed nature of the ics, and the locky character of the coast rendered this voyage perilous in the extreme. They had several almost miraculous escapes from ship- wreck, bnt ultimately reached the 70th degree ot lati- tude, nearly due South of Fury point, where they were stopped by an impenetrable barrier of heavy ice. Here they wintered in a harbour, which they found at the extreme point. ru January, 1830, they had a communication with an interesting tribe of natives, who had never seen any but their own people. Good feeling having been established, this, their first winter, which was uncom- monly severe, passed very pleasautly. Having learned from the natives that the East sea was divided from the West by a neck of land, this was examined in the spring, and all hope of a passage in that direction completely extinguished. Captain Ross's nephew, Corn. Ross, surveyed the coast of the West sea, leading to Cape Turnagain and succeeded in getting to within 150 miles ofit, leaviug if within a bhort distance of the place where Captain Back expected Fish river to join the sea. During the autumn of 1830, they wailed in vain for the ice to dissolve, as it had done in the preceding year. After with difficulty retracing their steps be- tween foui- and five miles, they were arrested, in a very uncomfortable position, by the approach of winter, which proved the most severe ever recorded, the lowest temparature being 92 degrees below the freezing point. The enduing summer, 1832, proving no less rigorous for the season, little hope was entertained of a release, aud al! the progress they could make was fourteen miles further. Iu October, 1831, the Victory was laid up in the harbour, where she still remains moored, and where the t arty passed a third winter scarcely less severe than the preceediug one. Their provisions being now expended, they had no alternative but to abandon the ihip, and proceed to the spot where the provisions of the Fury still remained,—a distance of 200 miles in a direct line, but increased one half by the circuitous route they were compelled to take. Accordingly, ju May, 1832, they left the Victory, and. after a fatiguing journey reached Fury Beach, in July, having to carry not only their provisions and sick, but also fuel, without which they conld not uielt the snow or get water to drink. They then repaired the boats of the Fury, and attempted to escape, but it was September before they reached Leopold's lsland,-which they have now fully established is the N.E. point of America. They waited with inconceviable anxiety, but in vain, for a dis- rupt ion of the ice it presented an impenetrable mass, extending across Lancaster Sonnd, and also towards the fishing- ships, which could get no higher than Admiral's Inlet, where some of them remained as late as the 19th September. No alternative therefore was left to our botd adventurers but to retrace their steps, and spend a fourth winter in a canvass hut, covered with snow. Their sufferings here, aggravated by want of beds, clothing, and auimal food, were of the severest kind -;).Imost Leyoud description, or credibility, for it would not be believed that human beings could endure such intense and protracted misery. The carpenter perished, and several others were so much reduced that they had to be carried to Batty Bay where the boats had been left. The Spring and Summer of the present year af- forded the liveliest hopes. The ice opened on the 14th August, and on the same day that Captain Humphrey, in the Isabella, tried to reach Leopold's Island, Captain Hoss and his party arrived there. Captain Humphtey could not-cross the ice, and was driven by a N.W. gale to the Southward up Prince Regent's Captain Ross and his men remained until the ^1, had separated the ice they crossed this point when the Isabella was to the South, passed to the fforftnwdofher, and having gained The Sonfh shore, p they nearly reached its entrance before the Isabella I overtook t&em.- No language can describe the feelings breitlier party; and the remarkable circumstance I already mentioned, that the Isabella was the identical ship which Captain R. commanded on his ffeuier -■ e gave additional interest to the meeting. Th*riue position of the Magnetic Pole has been discover d, and many important and valuable t discoverif* and observations made towards the ) improvement of geography, and nautical knowledge. li will ai'Pear, from the statement we have given, | a ureti v conclusive inference that there is no North- west pisag-e South of 74 degrees N. I Thp tract of country, newly discovered, is larger than Great Britain, and has been named Boothiana, I after i *J3o<>«h» ^1' Sheriff of London in 1829, I tv.r„UKn -.vh'ose patriotic and public spirit Captain l Roa* yas assisted in fitting out the expedition.

I SIR JOHN KEY.—The Common Council of l.an bourii Ward have had a meeting to take into conslderatthe steps necessary to be taken with I respect to this mirror of Whig virtues. The meet- inr uaanin'nusly resolved that his conduct was I h'l-rhlv disgntceful, and such as disqualified him from Masistriicy* Nine of the Common Council II waited upon pÍlu to request him to resign his gown, which the B& rt- refused to do; he added, that he was much surf'rised at the extraordinary conduct of the Connr.on C\ounc^' some of whom he understood had made use of very strong language respecting him To this o ne of the deputation replied that, if Sir Joan alludec to him he was perfectly correct; that he had desi nated him as a scoundrel an opinion which he believe d was entertained by eleven out of every twelve pe rsons in the city of London. Sir John reiu rated h is determination to retain his Ma- gi>.U rial office, a nd the Common Council having ao'ain warned him of the probable consequences of his obstinacy, the interview terminated. It is now understood that sue h steps will be taken by the ward on 'th~ 2ist of De-ember (St. Thomas's day), that the henourai'e magi strate will be compelled to re- tire. it is, howevei suspected that, prior to that _„V bf, will folloni the examole of certain well- 4

The Duchess Countess of Sunderland left her house in Hamilton place, on Monday week, on a visit to her daughter, Lady Grosvenor, at Motcomb, in Dorsetshire. Her Grace, as the senior Countess of the United Kingdom in her own right, adds that title to her superior one as Duchess, and is thus distin- guished from her daughter-in-law, the present Duchess. THE MARQUESS WELLESLEY.—The Corporation of Dublin have presented an address to the Lord Lieutenant, who has returned a gracious, and very promising answer. (" I promise to pay," &c. Jack Straw.) THE MARCHIONESS WELLESLEY.—The most illustrious female in the empire has exerted her power and her influence in inducing the Marchioness to forego her original intention of not joining her Lord in this country; and has been successful in prevailing on her Ladyship to become her Majesty's representative at the Irish Court. For many reasons we are glad of this. It will prevent the performance of a drama, which, although it might amuse the thoughtless, would be disreputable to the nation ;—■ ss' w for there were TWO ladies-Roxana and statlru- both possessing equal claims upon the paternal affections of the Viceroy, and each of whom was prepared, and, we understand, determined to exert herself to the life in the representation of the Rivar Queens. That such an exhibition will be spared by the appearance of the legitimate claimant to the character, must prove satisfactory to the lovers of decorum in all grades and classes.-London Guar. Lieut.-Col. Mc'Caskill, from the 89th Regi- ment is appointed Lieut.-Col. of the 98th Regiment, vice Lieut.-Col. Vaughan, deceased. DEATH OF SIR CHARLES COLVILF We regret to hear that intelligence was on Thursday night re- ceived at Duffield Hall, of the death of Sir Charles Henry Col vile, at Strasburg. A solemn knell was tolled at the church, and a mournful gloom was cast upon the whole v illage.- Derbyshire Courier. THE PARLIAMENT.-Parliament is prorogued pro formâ till the 12th December, but it is expected, unless anything unforeseen should occur, that the time of actual meeting will be the second week in February. LORD BROUGHAM.—We are sorry to hear that the healthof Lord Brougham is fast declining. A paragraph in Wednesday's Herald stated his Lord- ship was unable, from serious illness, to attend the last Cabinet .Council, and that it was probable, from Jthe nature of his Lordship's complaint, he would be compelled to retire from his Ministerial functions for some time to come. Although we are broadly opposed to the "Voice from the Woolsack," we are anything but gratified to hear that the first and the greatest of our political foes is seriously indisposed. We unfeignedly hope that the grim King of Terrors" will spare 'his grasp of Lord B. for many a long day to coine.-Age. WHIG LOYALTY.—Leven Grove, in this county, has been, we hear, rebuilt in the most modern style, at the cost of his Majesty, who has made a gift of it to Viscountess Falkland, his Majesty's youngest daughter, in consequence of the Noble Viscount declining to accept of" any pecuniary appointment under Government.- Yorkshire Gazette. WANTED A WIFP.rhe Duke of Orleans is seeking a wife, and has agents secretly employed in half the Courts in Europe to take miniatures of all the Princesses from the age of 15 to 23.

REVIEW OF LITERATURE. «FRAZER'« MAGAZINE," FOR OCTOBER.-Frazer There are few things that we have regretted so much as being compelled by want of space to con- dense the narrative of the "Scottish Borderer." After a stormy stramash replete with traits illustrative of the dissensions in the braw auld Kirk on such occur- ences, the Marquess of L-, who is elected Provost, succeeds in nominating the minister of the Kirk of his borough. But the opposing faction, headed by Mr. A-, the aspiring writer, built by subscription a Kirk for the candidate of their choice, and the opening of this Kirk is an event finely dfifeibed. Reuben Turnbull, disgusted with the stormy inci- dents of a ministers life, relinquishes his views, and shortly after is sent to his uncle, a rich West Indian, who makes him his heir. Reuben is sent by his uncle to New York to transact some business with a pompous merchant, Mr. Barton. He transacts the business well; bnt he lingers still there is an Edith Barton-he is in love. An affecting interview ensues, in which it transpires that Edith is married, and her husband, Silas Barton, has been forced from the place through the influence of her father. Reuben devises means for the escape of Edith to her husband; and by the influence of his uncle procures the resti- tution of Silas's fortune. His uncle dies; and he returns after an absence of thirty years to his native place, and there spends the remnant of his days. The narrative abounds with beautiful incidents and traits of character, which will rivet the itfost atten- tive interest.

"GLAMORGANSHIRE LEGEND, OF THE LORD OF DUN RAVEN CASTLE. BY THE RURAL DOCTOR ( Continued from our last.) There lived in a sea-side hovel, near Duuraven, a des- perate character, once a smuggler, who having lost a hand, which was supplied with an iron claw fastened to the stump, a formidable instrument, obtained the name of Mat. of the Iron Hand. This man bore so evil a name among the country people, that he was best pleased to lead a soli tary life on the shore, shut out by the high rocks from human haunts, and a population that hated and feared him. He was reported to screw on occasionally a dirk to his Iron. substitute for the member he had lost, for deeds of horror during shipwreck; and it was remarked,, as of ill omen, that the lord of fiunraven manor, who, in his magisterial office, had more than once inflicted theuper)alties of the law on this ruffian, was now in frequent intercourse with him, in that wild and sad solitude betwixt rock and sea, that shut them in by themselves, only observed occasionally by persons peeping down over the edge of the cliff above. As their mutual aversion was not concealed, it was justly inferred that some common interest of a dark and secret nature must exist to thus associate them. That interest consisted in a share of the profit derivable from wrecks, which Matthew enjoyed as the reward of his vigilance in beguiling ships to the strand. One evening, as the poor lord sate listening to the harp of his old servant, in that wild wave-worn receptacle of his forlorn misanthropy, the sky presented a singular aspect. The sun, which had been invisible all day, broke: out at its setting, and hung like a globe of lire on the edge of the sea, discovering by that red background a very dis- tant sail, which showed like a spot on its disk. Dreary and massive clouds still vaulting the whole prospect, gave a grandly wild effect to this peep of dying glory. Every far off cliff, and every grey cottage that dotted the moun- tain banks in their dark-olive sombreness of line, now gleamed" out visible in the strong relief of that murky yet illuminated sky, unnatural of tint, like a sky of brass, while those whitened homes of men, as the sun sunk and the dark of gathering night came on, gave the idea of scattered tombs in an evening desert of Arabia, so dun and desolate was the heathy view below, and that metallic glare above. •» The faithful harper is said to have retained the gentle- ness of his calling, and interposed to prevent that deadly fraud and cruelty practised by him of the iron hand, by his influence with his master, but in vain. This evening, as a sail was in view, the one-handed recluse exhibited his figure standing at the edge of the sea betwixt them and that sun, and the harper took occasion thence to darkly hint the judgment which awaited the sin of wrecking, till silenced by the sudden fury of Mr. Vaughan. Then it was a sudden wild crying of two voices came on the wind from a rock called the Swincher, which lies a short distance out at sea, close to Dunraven, and was covered by the waves at high water. The two elder sons of Mr. Vaughan had rowed thither, as was their custom, in a small boat, bad fastened it insecurely, the sea was coming round them in a spring-tide, and it was now first they discovered that their boat was gone! The wretched father saw it far out, a dancing speck on the waters, his sons crying out to him in vain for help which no mortal could render, their wild and desperate appeal, audible by fits above the deep and hol low roaiing of the sea, becoming higher every moment, and answered, in the desperation of helpless affection, with all fond epithets and words equally wild and vain. The children ot Vaughan now forced to him the world his philanthropy, which began with grasping all mankind, ended in that little circle of existence, but glowed there still with concentrated force, while ail besides was apathy or misanthropy." I will swim out to the boat-I can- I will—I see it yet. said the wild father, tearing off his clothes, though the boat was distant half a mile of heavy sea, and the poor boys stood visible, breast deep in water, holding by one of the crags. 4 Patience-—keep hold—firm, firm—and we'll save you! he shouted, as if tliey could hear his shout. A few words of theirs did reach the shore: We drown-oh father, father!—the boat, the boat!' came in the pauses of the sea's breaking at the feet of the father, who ran deep into the water, and stretched his arms madly toward the fatal rock, till pulled back by the few persons that the accident had drawn to the shore. As the wretched man struggled with those who forced him through the surf to land, a wilder cry, doleful but sliort, made him turn his head suddenly—and nothing was there but tumbling waves, where the rock had stood out and his sons had cried distractedly.-—' Gone—gonf he said, 7 —«—aawmu—e? »i»i.ii»p^IIH1>|Wr.w^WMi them. 6 Curse your luercy-Jet me úrowll too-iel me go to my boys, my drowning boys—drowning, smothering— now, now, now!' vociferated the lost father, sinking ex- hausted into the arms of his old weeping harper and two supporting bystanders. You are a father yet,' said the old man; you must live for poor William, the little one remember your least, your helpless one". Mysterious Providence, perhaps in retribution, had already snatched that little one beyond the father's love, and above the need of his help. I11 ;the contusion of this catastrophe, every inmate and neighbour having been at- tracted from the castle, the poor child had fallen into a vessel of wort left by persons brewing, and was found drowned. '• When the father, on asking for his little one, became aw-are of his triple loss, the added calamity seemed to act like a desperate cure on his fonner frantic grief. He raved no more, but, like one stricken with a palsy, sate dumb and tearless, looking on vacancy. With an instinc tive effort under the hysterical strangling of pent-up grief, he at last tottered down to the wild beach, and seated him self in the surf-beat alcove of rock once more, tearing open his bosom's covering for air. N jgilt now settled over the sea; the vessel, still dimly visible, hovering on the coast, and the aged servant saw with horror the sudden bursting forth of a fire on the beach, which he knew was kindled by Mat. of the Iron Hand to decoy that ill-fated ship to destruction. Though the false beacon was distant, he could descry the limping gaunt figure of the ruffian pass and repass before the red glare; or stand, a darit body alone against the whiter flame, the smoke-volume curling above his head, resembling the figure of a martyr at the stake. Such was the general dread 'and odium this solitary wretch had inspired, that few of the mountaineers chose to intrust themselves within reach of his ponderous hand and imagined dagger, even for the hope of booty, where the dark, the fog of mist and spray, the roaring of waters, and confusion of a shipwreck, would render it easy for linn to stun or stab a victim, and precipitate him into the boiling surge's sweep, instanta- neously, without detection. Hence it had happened that more than one wreck had occurred where he alone ap- proached the edge of the sea, aud all others stood aloof up under the jutting rocks. "After having just witnessed three deaths inflicting three deadly wounds on the heart of that wretched father, and each by drowning, as if in proof of the retributive justice of an angry God, pitying the perils of the seaman peculiarly exposed to that form of violent death, the old harper shut his eyes in very horror at that spectacle, and, rousing his stupiried lord, implored him not farther to tempt the fearful judgments of heaven to command the instant extinction of that false light, which might at that moment be hanging over some anxious father's heart expecting a home-hound chlld-a. curse and an agony equal to that under which his own then lay bleeding. Vaughan looked wildly upon him, aroused by his eariiestness--tilen at the dreary illumination of the coast-the grim form moving before the background offog.with its tint of blood, as the wrecker, looking dimly gi- gantic, moved in the red cavern hollow formed by the resin- ous flame of firs,like some foul magician, in his circle, or the fouler spirit raised there to do his bidding. Fool!' he thundered suddenly, I I am afather yet! God's judgment, it may be, has stopped at once this night three channels in which my blood was flowing, and left but one—that let me cherish! that I will cherish Perish every ship on this cursed shore, that has almost made me childless, rather than he, my first-born, my last hope, shall come here say- ing, Father, where is my home ?" and I have but that turret with its bats to point him to for an inheritance Life is a fight, and man a wolf to man; be it so but liolofatlier a wolf to his son I 1 have been such to him, 'tis fit 1 make atonement.' "A dismal night with heavy rain had the effect of clearing the beach of all intruders on the dark privacy of the fire- watcher, and the sorrow of the bereaved father. Pain of heart seemed to exasperate, not subdue, his misanthropy, and inclined him more to the cruel expedient to redeem his fortunes. It was in the dead of night that a crash of a striking vessel roused him from a lethargic pause in agony, depressing him almost into a sleep, still occupying that piazza of rock which forms so wildly grotesque a feature of that coast. Perhaps the wretched father felt a degree of grim pleasure in the idea of others suiferinga watery death that night as well as his three children, and his inquiry of the old smuggler, as he approached him and h/s villainous beacon, whether aught alive were on board, had perhaps a wish even beyond that prompted by self-interest. So slipckingly close is every human virtue dogged at the heel by a foul fiend in its very likeness the father love thus owing parentage to the man-hater's cruclty the amiability of a tender father's grief thus akin to a barbar- ous desire of multiplying the victims to that element which had inflicted that chastening grief! 4 1 know nothing about it,'said the wrecker surlily,'but I thought I heard a noise of voices and clank of lowering the longboat long ago. They're all gone down in that squall, if they did put off. The sea is calm now, and the wind's sinking, and I saw the wreck beating plain enough in the last flash of lightning but it's all still aboard.' As he spoke he was hurrying on a life preserver, Mr. Vaughan's invention, and recent gift to him for the purpose of reach- ing wrecks. That suggestion of combined p:ty and gen- ius over which in better days its author had shed tears of joy, as experiments proved its value, was now to invest the worthless body of a ruffian; and for how opposite a purpose "Now it was that the faithful Ieuan stood suddenly at his master's side, and whispered him apart to not longer ven- ture himself alone at that hour with so desperate a being, who, besides, owed him a deadly grudge; for it was in an affray with the officers of law, acting under Vaughan's ma- gisterial warrant, that Mat. lost his hand, and the small piratical vessel he commanded became forfeited his re- venge, however smothered for interest's sake, was well known to be rancorous, and restless for opportunity against his employer. Mat. relieved the present fears of the faith- ful servant by daringly committing himself to the wave, on which he rode buoyant, rising after his plunge with a wild < hurrah by the aid of the ingenious apparatus. 4 Though the wind sunk, and the sea abated its rearing, this seemed but a prelude to another storm for the dark ness deepened momentarily, and the thunder growled in the invisible sky. Mr. Vaughan stood listening; and the old man knew too well the stern mood of his exasperated despair, like that of some wild creature of the forest over its dead young, to venture a woid of humane expostulation more.. It's surely a lawful wreck,' he muttered at last; 4 it lies very near, only on those rocks that are almost dry at ebb tide-yet I hear nothing of life on board, aud the villain's there by this time—hark! hark! hark!' Mr. Vaughan's concluding exclamations were those of intense I alarm or awe, and he laid his hand in his eagerness on the old man's lips, guided to them by the sound only, as he began to reply to his remark. After a long pause, What did you hear. Sir ?' asked leuan. I What did you hear? Tell me that first!' said Mr. Vaughan, in a hollow tone of horror. I Nothing, Sir, but the dismal cry of the wind, for it's like one crying, as it rushes through the wind-holes in the overhead cliff. But, dear sir, what is this trembling upon you ? Your hand, that clutches my arm, shakes my whole feeble body. What did you hear 0, only what you heard; 'tis done now :—tho wild singing of the wind through the rock. Didst ever hear the death howl of some wild people for their dead, leuan? The wind's like it.' But what seemed you to hear ? and why did you quake, and your voice grow strange?' 4 No matter what; perhaps it was the echo of three pretty voices I shall never hear again, that have not done crying in my-ears yet, nor ever will have done in my heart, till its throb of loathed life is done; the mere memory and echo.—God! but it was not! There it is again-now, now didn't you hear then? Now the wind's changed—it's gone! Now, what seemed that sound tt) you, among all the dash and swash of the sea? It must have been « loud, long, and dreadful sound I did hear like the voices of two coming from the spot of the wreck's beating and one seemed doleful, aud as in agony but it might be only the wind's howling.' No such thing! my misery makes me mad, or I did hear his very voice, and in sounds of agony! What does that devil alone there on the lost ship so long ?-Mat.! Mat.! Mat.! you murderer, what do you do 1 Come back-back 1' Oh, sir, you distract yourself, and me too 4 Why so 1 do,' said the father, leaning on the old servant: But, oh that un- accountable sound, or frightful thought of mine! it was n01 whispered me for nothing.' Sir, it is your grief has put some wild fancy of mourning in your mind.' 4 True how many bours have I been childless? yet not childless either! what could make me forget my boy over the sea, that's left to me ?' 4 Hark leuan exclaimed, now that was but the wind 1 all's still as death on the wreck.' 4 Yes, there are noises and echoes on this coast enough to drive a desperate man mad, if he'd listen too long! There are such dismal winding caverns, and long passages of dark ness hollowed out of these rocks by the sea, fit for cata- combs and enormous death-vaults; and, doubtless they have held their blue and bloated dead, and shark-gnawed corpses of drowned souls, ere now—real sepulchres of un- buriedmen!* Iron Heart! Iron Hand! why stays he, think you?' 4 Perhaps for the tide i Itis fast running out, sir, and will soon almost allow bis wading back would he might never return-a man of blood he added inly. Mr. Vaughan groped for his servant's hand.-—'Would it were but a little light,' said he,4 to shew your lips moving, and more noise, or less of the sea and its echo behind these cliffs, that a man's living voice may sound like what it is, —now 1 fancied you murmured hollowly, 4 Xever return and 4 blood !'—but it's my poor brain still. Why, I've stood by these walls of the sea, and heard myself cursed, b y name, to the deepest hell, over and over, tor having ruiudd my dear son and heir, and made him a banished man a.l the while I knew it was not a spirit raging at me, as it seemed, but only tHe ruins of my own wicked n ine), that shaped the sound into syllables, as those clefts in the ruin- ous rocks do the mere air into cries of the murdered, dying, and cursings of the murderer Do you remember how I once at midnight called you up to hear the Cwn Annum,— the dogs of the sky, which our couutry people believe in, as bunting souls to make hell more populous, the moment they quit the flesh, and quite to the gates oi heaven ? That howling we heard, and those strange fires I thought were those which always attend them, we found, after, you know, to be but the noise of the wind-holes in these crags, and the phosphoric flashing of the waves that towered agamst them so why should a man's heart fail him for any rumour of the poor fallible senses ? Yet, oh lettaii Ieuan you are not a father with only one child left him!' "The old man caught the infection of his master's sup- pressed horror, and trembled like him. Speak, my mas- ter! what heard you, or seemed you to hear?' Ob, it was deadly, e\.(Hy! a sound of praying, threatening, struggling, suffering, and dying; some bloody death all in "1 -t.1 in a voice. Oil leuau, that voice You heard it! you saw us part! you know how tenner, now woman- like it was—farewell dear father?' No more of this! haUoo back that horrid hell-hound of man's shape, or I must die, Ieuan!' Mr. Vaughan felj on his servant's neck, and vented his agony in a convulsed weeping, as of the hysteric passion. But that moment the intrepid wrecker was heard pant- ing though the surf almost at their feet, and, with the next, stood up before them, but only as a black and figured shadow so deep was the combined dark of baze, and the night ceiling of sky brewing thunder. Before he had yet erected himself, Mr. Vaughan's question rung in his ear, 4 Was anything alive on board ?' A voice hollow, and yet gasping with the brine, replied I There is nothing alive on board.' 4 Was there life on board ? was my question dog cried the furious father 4 why, then, there was a dog on the wreck.' A dog only said Mr. Vaughan, with the freed breathing of a relief from agony 4 and you left him to perish ? it had been merciful to have brought him to shore, seeing there was no witness to his being found there, to bar our manorial elaim to the cargo.' 4 Our claims your reverence has altered your style towards poor Mat. since he lay in the dungeon of Dunraven, since you robbed him of his hand, and worse-of., hiF, wings, of his little good ship since you struck hi.s sail for him that he never did himself, for- ever, and left him to crawl on another element, among you laud-reptiles, like a fine sea- vulture brought down from these cliff's tops, to hop and scufSe with one wing among the nasty lazy polypuses that strew this beach.' 4 Beware, sir,' the old harper whispered, and drew his master nearer to his own side; for he knew the deadliness of the man's feelings of wrath, by a certain hollow sound, and quaver of his harsh voice. 4 "J'is a precious cargo I can tell you,' continued he, 4 for I had it from the master's own mouth.' 4 How! only a dog you said ?' 4 Aye—a dog of my breed; didn't you say was a dog ? bat don't despair of a wreck,-he'll never witness against our rights, unless mayhap at the great assize and grave delivery of the Doomsday.' Oh, villain did I ever sanction murder, if [ did this horrid treachery of a false light?' Vaughan broke forth. 'The Lord have mercy on us, miserable sinners was the ejacu- latiou of the old servant, kneeling down on the sharp beach stones. The laughter of the ruffian rose devilish and chuckliug in the darkness, and be added 4 I'll tell you all about it. The ship bulged when it struck all hands but one got into the longboat, swamped it by the numbers, and the sharks are at supper on 'em now. But this one was owner, captain, merchant, and so on, and would not quit his ship; besides, he said he knew the the coast; be was a native of Wales he was making for as a near port to his birthplace.' What was that place ?' interrupted Vaughan, seeming to speak from his hollow depth of bosom as a voice of one speaking from a tomb. But the wrecker, regardless, continued He was enriched by the death of a merchant, his relative.' 4 At what place ? answer, as you shall answer at the dreadful day of judgement,' vociferated the tortured father 4 what age ?—what name ? oh, for the love of God, answer 4 And so you see, he was making his way home to enjoy himself,—a good lad too for he had a father, a wicked old gambler, who had broke a wife's heart by his ways, and beggared hiin-his heir; and yet he wished to live, chiefly to surprise that old felon of a father—wrecker—murderer, what not, with his good fortune! Was it fitting, sirs, in the shadow there, where stand ye ? Was it fair to let such a father get a prize hy by his villainy, andilet the foolish sonjbestow his wealth on one for having not used him like a son ?' 44 4 1 perceive now,' said Mr. Vaughan, recovering himself, I that thou art inventing a hideous fable, merely to insult me and play upon those womanish fears you detected in me by my violent questions.' Perhaps our hope of the untruth of some horrid evil befalling us is always liveliest on the eve of its confirmation, and even our own secrct submission to belief; for hope is the saving instinct of man, given to him rather than to the brutes, in which it seems limited to mere animal wishes, as an antagonist to that despair inseparable, otherwise, from that most terrible of human gifts, prescience of the future. Hope is the mind's law of self-preservation against madness, the the death of mind ? The vindictive ruffian humoured this fond dream of the father: he groped for him in the gloom that obscurely allowed his figure visible by the lighter background of the open sea expanse, and, asking him pardon, I Sir,' said he I will you, in token of our renewed alliance, accept my hand, my one hand?' The happy father, with the good humour of sudden ease, grasped the hand which touched him-, in token of our repentance, shame belore God, and eternal turning away from the wickedness we have com- mitted, unhappy man !aid he solemnly, and in tears. 4 I am the guiltier of us two henceforth. Terror of death, fellow what a clay cold hand thou hast! go warm thee over your fire's embers, for never corpse hand had more of the feel of death 44 A fiend-like shout of laughter answered him. The dim form of blackness that was between Mr. Vaughan's eye and the horizon gloom 'grew visibly higher, in the wretch's tip-toe exultation, while he thrust a hand of natural living warmth and mobility into thesufferer's. Alat. is himself again said he I sir, rejoice with me for my again possessing two hands-if not the two God gave me meanwhile, I'll go rou*e the fire to warm me, and hold you this hand all the while perhaps you'll know it by the red glimmer there i* a ring ou it the owner would have had me bear it to his father, for he knew me well, as a farewell token,—it is his mother's mourning-ring. But I preferred bringing hand and all so took both before 1 committed the rest of him to the sea. If you know it-good, if not, let me find the father that will own the ring and hand.' The father stood statue-like, holding a -dead hand. The gleam from the roused embers presently showed him his son's hand, in the white of death, drained of all its blood, but well known by the ring. leuan had brought firearms for his patron's security, in his midnight dealings with the villian. He now thrust into his master's hands, as it let drop the hideous relic of a beloved son, a loaded pistol. < Live, sir, for revenge-- if but for revenge he said. But Mr. Vaughan let it fall, like the bloody member, which he now stooped to raise again, kissed repeatedly, and deposited in his bosom, The old man found a second youth rushing through all his veins, in the fury that burned along them, under his fidelity of love for his once worthy master. He seized the fallen weapon, and gliding through the few paces of dark- ness, a report and savage yell told the most wretched of men that he was revenged. The wrecker fell on his re- kindling fire, and the harper left him to his fate. It might have told-but it fell on the ear of the childless man as on one of the upright forms of sea beat stone there glooming, which his own frame resembled in its external apathy, but not in its inward agony, beyond what rack or burning lead ceuld inflict. 44 It was after a long silence that the words of Ieuan seemed to find access to his stunned sense, and elicited reply. I Live! you are crueller to me than my boy's murderer was to him, in such horrible bidding Shew me, between that merciless heaven that visited my guilt upon his guiltless head, and this wild world, one shadow of a hope I have to stay for, on this cursed planet's nakedness, after this 1 Live < Why do you curse me so horribly ? I was not a man of blood to you Live ? To live, and live, after all is finished here and here/striking his head and heart, I and live on for ever, is the utmost curse and damnation of lost souls in their burning pit: is that your wish for me ? A soul in deepest hell never felt a retri- bution like this nor can a true hell have pains for me beyond this hour, and this desolate hell of earth I stand on alone alone alone with nothing in all its wasteness of waters and dead earth but my blasted self and this poor bloody band !—this that lay in mine as but yesterday, when he slept upon my knee this that held mine so long, so tenderly, before he left me this that I'll die embracing -kissing so Bury it with me, I charge you, in my bosom, w ithin my shroud, Ieuan Let me carry this poor, this only fragment of him into earth with me i 44 The wild outbreak of Mr.Vaughan's despair rose above the weltering roar of the sea. Yet he lived on his place and time of death was not known, but he hurried from his home of Dunraven, and it was sold to the ancestor of the present owner. The horror and he bitterness of death, all but its physical cbanp,-was past after that dis mal night. 1 Though the habits of a wrecker máy teem too far removed from those incident to the generality of men, to afford an effective moral lesson, still its figurative appli- cation may embody a useful one. The wrecker,, such as above described, aggravates the distress of distressed men, by holding out a false prospect of relief. He exhibits what the eager-eyed mariner believestobe the happy illumination of some port or city, promising safety and succour, but. that mariner tinds there an iron-bound shore,, fatal to seamen, that he ought to have shunned as he would the great grave of the quicksand in the midst of the sea. How many thousands in the every-day world practise the calling of wreckers, who never heard perhaps the name For what is the mock-physician, the quack, advertising poisons as cures infallible to the pitiable sick, holding out a false light of hope to desturbthe despairof the hopeless incurable; or aggavate by mock remedies sufferings not yet beyond the reach of real ones,—but a wrecker ? What is the gay man of (swinish) pleasure, the bacchanal suicide, who, showing brave colours (a jovial face all in glow, and laughing eye though sunken,) over a gnawed liver, a sick heart, and a mind dead, seduces others to sport over the vine-purpled pitfall, that's yawning for himself,—but a wrecker, seducing victims to fill the shambles of intem- perance with more carcasses, corrupting before death, instead of to temples and bowers of bliss, to meet the rosy- visaged and laurelled spirit of Anacreon ? What the demagogue, who hoists a delusive banner, collects the in- nocent, suffering poor around it, by pretending concern for them, and advice for their relief then, wholly unable to point tbem to a remedy, embroils them in bloody tumults, robs them of the last blessings their fate had left to them, their innocence and liberty, and leaves them to repent in the prison, or the lazar-house,—but a detestable wrecker! What end of multiplying instances of the crime of moral wrecking ? Let one conclude. What but a mighty wrecker is that man, who,,volunteering to pilot the vessel of the state, forswearing the ancient way,' des- pising chart and compass, setting up a light of his own 4 heaven born genius,' in place of the pole-star, and staking on this the fate of millions, steers right out, not for any known port, not by any track laid down by skilful navigators, but shaping a course for those fabulous for- tunate isles that have been so strangely foisted into some ancient charts, the works of ignorant dreamers, and through channel s beset with perils while, ere the wiser portion of his victinis can well lift their hands to heaven, hurries the jost ship with'all its souls on the periious shore of anarchy, wu with a thousand wrecks, there to beat at the mercy of availing and the bloodthirsy.